Checking In

Steve just walked in the door and has relieved me from my own personal hell of parenting with a hangover.

I had no patience for armpit farts and vegetable pickiness today. I really wanted to bury myself behind the Times with a cold glass of orange juice and will shortly, but I wanted to check in for a moment.

I have been enjoying reading other accounts of the holidays. (See Flea)Ours were great, though totally exhausting. Finding cool, fun, and economical gifts involved countless trips to the mall. Folding filo into 70 identical little triangles filled with spinach or lobster is task traditionally done by the grannies at the fire. Keeping the sugar addled kids from running laps around my aunt’s was a marathon.

And, yes, I might have launched into a long diatribe to my husband about the holidays being another example of unpaid, underappreciated work of women, which wasn’t entirely fair since he folded the triangles and minded the tots, too.

On Christmas Eve, we arrived at my aunt’s with our tupperware of fishy treats. After tossing our flaky triangles into the oven to warm, we settled into the other treats informally set out on the kitchen island — sushi, eel, scallops, shrimp cocktail, salmon spread. We grazed for hours, pausing briefly to open presents, and then settled into mom’s spaghetti with tuna and olive marinara sauce.

The present opening is more subdued than it used to be. Presents are just for the oldies or the kids. My nieces opened their present from me — gold lame bags filled with Hanukah gelt. The littlest one got a hot pink pretend baby stroller. Scotch and music for dad. Bowls and a jacket for mom.

Later, we carried two sleeping boys into their bunkbeds and then organized the piles from Santa under the tree. Too tired to put myself into bed, I got stuck watching the horrible “A Very Starry Christmas” on the E Channel for half an hour.

The morning came and the boys tore into their bootie with glee. Jonah loved Ian’s electric train and Steve’s video game. Ian loved Jonah’s CD player and new disk. He played the first tune by Phil Collins over and over and over. Tarzan one more time. Death one more time.

Church, photo opp, mom’s for dinner.

Last night, my brother, sister, three cousins, and spouses went to Carne for Argentinean beef. It was half price booze night, hence the hangover. Without our parents or kids to cramp our style, we all relaxed and caught up. Part of the gang has now relocated to Florida, so we relished our time together.

The festivities continue with trips to the city and New Year’s Day brunch.

The holidays are a lot of work, but it’s rewarding work. I loved watching Erin find little chocolate coins in her purse, Uncle Naren make short work of a plate full of our food, and Ian lie on the floor pushing Thomas and Annie and Clarabel through a tunnel. I got to be with my favorite people on earth and we enjoyed life with energy and joy.